Word of the Day
by RavenclawDoctorSilveo
Summary: This is written for the HPFC Word of the Day Challenge. 8/31/13: James wants to be a pirate when he grows up, Albus is serious and likes to read, and Lily enjoys gory stories and bloodbaths. Also, a hyper nine-year-old running around with a kitchen knife. What is Ginny to do with these weird kids of hers?
1. Bulbous

**Author's Note: Okay, guys. This is for the Word of the Day challenge on HPFC. The word for today is 'bulbous,' which apparently means 'bulging; bulb-shaped.' So...I really don't know if this qualifies, but it's my first challenge and I'm giving it my best shot. :)**

* * *

Ellie is crying. I'm scared, too, but I don't show it. I'm being brave for Mum. I was so scared this morning, when she had to go to the Ministry of Magic. I thought she wasn't going to come back, but she did. Dad and Mum took us and a bag we have that we use for keeping all our precious possessions in, and we left our house. Dad apparated us, and I got sick when we landed, and so did Alfie. We were in a desert, and it was hot, and Mum had only packed five jugs of water for us in the bag. Dad used an Undectable Exentioning Charm or something so they'd all fit, but it was very hot and there wasn't enough for all of us to finish the bottles. We were allowed half a jug and no more. We've been walking towards a town where we can get a place to sleep. Mum is frightened and she says we are in Egypt, but I think we're lost. Alfie is very scared and Mum is carrying him.

* * *

We're going to be lost in Egypt. Maisie says we are, and she is seven so it is true. Alfie is only two so he doesn't know, but I know. Maisie is right. We are lost in Egypt. I know we are in Egypt because Mummy says so. We have a little bit of water left, but it is not enough for us. We are going to die, I think, and no one will find us because we are lost. Daddy says we are not lost, and we are going to a town where we can sleep. I don't want to sleep. I am hungry and hot. It is not fair being five. Nobody gives you anything to eat.

* * *

It's still hot. That's the first thing I think when we finally arrive in the town. I don't know why Egypt was the first place that came to Reg's mind. I would have chosen someplace like France, but he wanted to apparate us to Spain, then Egypt. I'm still carrying Alfred, who is fast asleep and sweating. I think he has wet himself, but there is nothing I can do about that right now. I suppose we can ask someone to help, but I'm not ready to trust these Egyptians. I should have thought to pack nappies in the bag, but we were in a rush when we made it and we didn't think. It was my idea, actually: take the things we value most and need most in case we have to run away, though at the time, I didn't see the need or the means to run away, but of course, after this morning, that all changed. It is pretty late now, and it's dark in Egypt. I wonder what is happening back home. I hope the other Muggle-borns got out of the Ministry. Reg is bumbling about, trying to talk to some Egyptian. Maisie is almost asleep, though she is still standing up. Ellie isn't crying anymore, but tears stain her pink face. Looking at them, I am sad that they had to go through this. Alfie won't remember it—he is only two—but Maisie will, and Ellie might. It is a very traumatic thing to leave the only home you've ever known and go to a foreign land and bargain for a bed.

The man is gesturing with his hands. It seems he wants some of our jewelry. My right hand closes involuntarily over my left. They're not taking our wedding rings. I'm wearing a gold necklace that belonged to my grandmother. Perhaps he'll want to take that. I'm not willing to part with it. Maybe he'll even try to take one of the children! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has really created an atmosphere of fear and panic, hasn't he? Even here in Egypt, I fear his followers and I panic over small things like finding a safe place to sleep.

* * *

The rays of light begin to shadow their way across the desert sand. The sun is not up yet, but it is hot already, and it is light enough to see. The light reflected off the ground illuminates seven people. Two of them seem to be constructing something large: a huge brown sheet with many ropes attached lies on the sand. Two baskets that look as if they could each fit three grown men stand nearby. The other man is talking to a family of five. They look very nervous, and they are wearing clothes that fit the people indigenous to the area, though they look nothing like them.

"Are you sure it's safe?" the woman is saying. She has her arm around a little blonde girl, who is crying.

"It is very safe," assures the man, and gives the little girl a canteen of water. The woman does not look very reassured. She fusses about the children's clothes, and turns when the little boy gives a shriek of delight.

The big brown thing is moving upwards, fueled by a flame on the ground. It begins to take shape: if one were standing some distance away, it would look as if a monster were moving out of the ground itself. The bulbous bag is a hot-air balloon. The woman is looking skeptically at it. She has never been in one of these before, but the man says it will take her to safety. They will land somewhere when they will not be plagued by the sun or heat, and where they will not be followed.

* * *

"Mummy," says Ellie. "Is this a hot-air baboon?"

"A hot-air balloon, yes," says Mary, waving to Reg and Maisie in the other balloon and holding on to Alfred for dear life with the other. "And we're going far far away from You-Know-Who. We'll be safe there." She kissed Ellie's head. "I hope."


	2. Gynarchy

**Author's Note: I wrote this in a hurry, so I apologize if there are many mistakes or if it's terrible. I may fix it up a little later (is that allowed in challenges?)**

**The word of the day is...dun dun dun...GYNARCHY, which means 'government by women.'**

**Thanks for reading and enjoy!**

* * *

"I bet _I_ could rule this place better than anyone else could."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. He'd been hearing this same conversation since he'd told Pansy Parkinson where he was working. She occasionally dropped by just to "check up" on him and to "make sure he hadn't gotten into anything stupid, because Astoria is too tolerant of your dumb behavior."

"The Minister is just no good," Pansy continued. She glanced at Astoria, with whom Draco shared an office, for confirmation. Astoria was busy with her potions, and said nothing. Pansy sighed. "All these policies about people being _equal_—they shouldn't be there!"

Draco glanced at her but still said nothing. He was sorting through a stack of paperwork (Pansy had completely ignored his request for her assistance).

"Well, the Minister thinks that everyone _should _be equal," Astoria pointed out. "And many people agree with him."

"That's because he's a man," Pansy sniffed. "He thinks everyone can be made to not look down upon others. Well, he's wrong. And with all the laws in place, people want to rebel. It's human nature to rebel against laws. If he took away the laws, they would just go about their business not giving a damn whether someone is smiling at everyone or not. But the Minister's too stubborn and trusting."

"And what are you proposing they do about it?" Draco muttered. Unfortunately, Pansy heard him.

"You should let me be the Minister!"

Draco laughed. "_You_? As _Minister for Magic_? Thank you, Pansy; that really made me laugh."

She hit him with a stinging jinx on the bum. "Shut up. I could do it."

"No, you really couldn't," Astoria commented.

Pansy turned on her with a challenging glare. "And why is that, Greengrass?"

"Malfoy," Astoria corrected. "You're too opinionated," she continued, still focused on her small vials. "The Minister needs to know when to take advice and how to act on it. You're all your own person—nothing can change you. You do what you want, and it has never even crossed your mind that anyone else's ideas could possibly be better than your own."

Draco laughed. "She's got you all figured out, Pansy."

"You be the Minister, then."

"What? Me?" Draco turned around to look at her. Pansy smacked his arm.

"No, not you, stupid. Astoria. She's good at taking advice, especially from you and me. If we put her in charge, the two of us can run the government."

"No, Parkinson. You are not controlling me."

"Draco could control you."

Astoria dumped some white powder into a vial, which exploded and sent steam everywhere. Pansy and Draco coughed, bile rising in their throats. Astoria rolled her eyes, got up, and forced some antidote into their mouths. They immediately stopped choking.

"In case you haven't noticed," said Astoria, sitting back down as though nothing had happened, "_I_ control the both of you. But the two of us—Pansy and myself—could run the Ministry pretty well. Draco, you can be our manager. We'll dispose of the current Minister and put ourselves in charge."

"You understand that this is treasonous, talking about this in an office affiliated with the Ministry," Draco pointed out.

"No one cares," said Pansy dismissively. "Who else can help us? We can't have any of the old officials; they'd dislike us."

"I heard Audrey Weasley is pretty tough. We could recruit her," Astoria suggested, going back to her small potions kit.

Pansy made a face. "I was thinking more along the lines of Padma Patil and Millicent Bulstrode."

"Them, too. This could really work."

"God save us all," Draco whispered, looking up at the ceiling. "The Ministry run by women—that would be a nightmare."

"We could maybe branch out into the Muggle world."

"Are you crazy, Astoria? All wizards would object to being ruled by a gynarchy!"

"They're just sexist fools."

"Women running the entire Ministry." Draco shook his head.

"And half of them pregnant, too," Pansy added. Draco looked at her.

"Who else is pregnant?"

Astoria stared at him. "You really don't know? _Men_. Audrey Weasley is pregnant with her first child."

Draco nodded, as though he'd known this the whole time. He turned back to his paperwork, but jumped up again as a horrible thought struck him. "This is all hypothetical, right?"

Pansy smirked. "Yes, yes, of course."


	3. Corsair

**Corsair (pirate)**

* * *

"James! Stop running around with that knife!" Ginny shouted at her older son as he ran past the kitchen door with one of her big chopping knives. She didn't like baking much, but it was fairly easy to chop up vegetables and chicken and mix them together in a hot pan. Harry was working late again, and Fleur had dropped the kids off from Weasley Day Care, which rotated houses every day, two hours before. She had apparently given James some sort of sugar, because James was running around yelling more than usual. Lily and Albus were more immune to sugar, thank goodness.

"Yeah," said Albus from the couch, where he was reading. "You could kill somebody."

"Albus Potter, I will kill you! Revenge is sweet!" yelled James, running towards the couch, and Albus, who had enough sense to know that large knives were dangerous (unlike James), had to leap up off the couch.

"Actually, he probably couldn't kill you, Al," said Lily seriously from the corner of the playroom, where she was building an elaborate tower out of Legos. "He doesn't know where to stick the knife so it would actually do anything. But I do." She grinned. Ginny, watching from the kitchen, shook her head. Where had Lily gotten all these violent ideas? None of her family was particularly violent and, well, _weird_. That was it—Lily was just plain weird. Everybody said so, even Ginny's own Mum.

"James," Ginny warned, walking out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. "Give me that knife. _Now_. If you must play pirates, use the plastic sword, please. _Give me that knife_," she said again. James apparently had no intention of listening.

"Mother!" he shouted. "I will stab this into your heart!"

"No, you should put it in her stomach," argued Lily. "Stab her in the stomach, then pull your sword down so it rips her organs." Seriously, what five-year-old liked gory stories and used words like _organs_ in everyday sentences?

Ginny stared at her. James started jumping on the couch, holding the knife out in front of him. "James, this is your final warning."

"James, this is your final warning," the boy parroted, and Ginny sighed.

"_Accio _knife," she said, pointing her wand in the air. James whined as the blade flew out of his grasp and into Ginny's hand. "James, go get your plastic sword."

"When I go to Hogwarts, I'll get my own wand!" James yelled. Albus covered his ears.

"No, you'll get it before you go to Hogwarts," he corrected. James kicked him.

Lily's light brown eyes sparkled. "When I get my wand, I'm going to kill all the bad wizards."

"What about the bad witches?" Albus inquired.

"There are no bad witches," Lily said, as if James should have known that and was incredibly stupid to have had to ask. "Only wizards."

Ginny smiled at her daughter.

"Arr!" James was back from his room, where he kept his plastic sword. He slept next to it: it was his favorite toy, but he had evidently abandoned it earlier for the more dangerous instrument. "Avast! Ye scurvy dogs!"

"Another name for pirates is corsairs," Albus commented, going back to his book. Harry was pretty sure he would be in Ravenclaw, but Ginny thought he was very Gryffindor-ish at heart. He was like Hermione, she always told him. Smart but wholly Gryffindor. "Some people call them privateers, too, but they're wrong." He nodded sagely, which looked so comical on a seven-year-old Ginny had to stuff her knuckles in her mouth to keep from laughing. James, of course, knew immediately that she was trying not to laugh and began to chuckle hysterically. Albus glared at him. "Privateers were hired by the government to track down pirates, or corsairs, mostly," Albus informed them. "But lots of them became pirates, too. They acted like pirates, I mean. But it was legal for them, because they worked for the government. Sir Francis Drake was a privateer; did you know that? He worked with Queen Elizabeth the First. He was also an explorer. James admires him a lot," he added as an afterthought.

One of the things Harry insisted on was that their children learn about the Muggle world as well as the Wizarding one, because, as Hermione put it, "most witches and wizards are fine in their own world, but the minute they step out of the Leaky Cauldron, they're completely lost and out of place." If any of their kids were to somehow get themselves lost in the Muggle world, they would know about things like the Underground, money, and electronic devices, which usually went haywire around magic, so they didn't have many in their home.

"Well, that's good," Ginny said, not completely understanding boys and their apparent need for robbery and pirating and 'superheroes.'

Albus didn't respond. He was reading _A Guide to Muggles: For Children_, which was written by Hermione. It was a fairly big book, which Albus liked. He always found it funny when people discovered that he was the intellectual one, not James. He suspected, he'd told Ginny one night, that James looked like the stereotypical nerd, and so people expected him to be good at reading and to know a lot of big words. "In reality," Albus had said, "I am the one that likes to read and talk. But I'm not very good at writing, and James only writes when he has to. They just think James is smart because of his glasses." Ginny though he was probably right, and she'd mentioned this to Harry the next night. Harry had instantly become defensive about his glasses, which Ginny found rather endearing of him.

She was snatched out of her reverie by none other than the wild child, James, who had somehow gotten the knife back. It was probably his magic showing up. _God help us all when James gets his wand_, thought Ginny, dreading the day James could do infinite amounts of damage. "James Sirius Potter, we do _not_ use knives unless Mummy says so. Do you understand me?"

James nodded, his eyes going all round and innocent. Ginny snorted. James may be able to suck up to Harry, but she was well aware of the various ploys and tricks that were available to the clever child, most of which she had used herself.

"Good. Now go play with Lily." James ran off to play pirates with his sister, who was now slowly demolishing her carefully constructed towers.

"Die, little people," she was saying. "Your blood will run in the streets of Block Town, and the tigers will come and drink it like it is apple juice!" Lily had a particular liking for apple juice. Ginny shook her head, going back to the vegetables and chicken, now chopped and ready to be cooked.


End file.
